Today, I poured tears all over my notebook.
Although my eyes are red-rimmed and I'd rather keep the journal closed, I'll share with you something I wrote.

I am dying. I am dying. Piece by piece, the pieces that were me are dying. They're going away. Everything that made me who I am is going away, it's gone. I can't keep it.

I don't know if I'm supposed to decide if that's a good or bad thing. Maybe it doesn't have to be either. But I can feel it. I feel it.

It's like tearing a tree from the ground. A big tree with a wide trunk that has been standing for so long, through every season and year. And now something, some unseen force, is chopping me down and taking my branches and leaves and roots away.

Everything that makes me who I am.

I don't know what to do. My memories are disappearing and gone. I don't want to be chopped down. I didn't want this and it's happening anyway.

The worst kind of torment is when you know things used to be a certain way and now you know they're different. When a certain time used to be something good and happy and loving and you took it for granted.

You were an idiot and took it for granted and now it's gone.

Now you're sitting here with your heart in your hands and you don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. Nothing makes sense.

I have memories and those hurt the most. Do you know how many times I've tried to say goodbye to them, to my memories? So many times. I bury the memories somewhere and they come back, they always come back and hurt me. Even the good ones. Everything hurts me. They hurt me over and over again.

They leave me over and over again. They left me so many times, I lost count. I don't even know if they were really here at all. Something inside of me tells me, no, they weren't. They were never really with you.

I feel empty most days. Like the tree that has finally been chopped down and left for dead.

Have I ever been afraid of dying? No. I've died many times.

I died when they left me in that desert, I died when they forced me to make a choice I didn't want to make, I died when she left in the middle of the night and never came back, I died when I had to say goodbye to my sister, I died when I realized that my love died out a long time ago and wouldn't return.

It won't return because the people I love are dead. They've been gone for such a long time. How long is a long time? It's longer than forever.

*They've been gone for lifetimes and won't come back.

It's been you since the beginning.

Although you weren't in the same room or in the same point of time, you were there when I took my first breath.

I saw you. You were looking at me with those eyes - they were both a greeting and a goodbye. That's how things work in this life, you know.

I heard your voice. I couldn't tell if you were laughing or crying - but aren't they the same? Your message was clear to me. I'm here.

I felt your heart. Do you want to know how? Come closer and I'll tell you.

You and I are the same. We're one. When I took my first breath, you took your last.

I wish it wasn't this way. I wanted to delay what I knew was inevitable.

I'm sorry.

Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. This is how things work, remember?
Just come closer and kiss me. That's all I want before you go. Tell me our secret in my ear.  

*You and I are the same. We're one. One day, I will take my first and last breath with you.

Sometimes feelings don't hit you until you're ready.

In the midst of battle, we have to be strong. We cannot be vulnerable when we are being watched, being attacked, being torn apart.

You cannot shed tears when your enemy is standing in front of you, yelling words that might as well be bullets because they sting when they hit your body.

But you're strong. You're bulletproof.

You fight back with everything you have. You close your eyes, keep your mouth shut, tuck away all of the parts of you that are fragile.
You lock them inside of your chest, deep down, and throw away the key.

The enemy never leaves. They are always there.
Everyday is a battle - every moment is spent looking behind your shoulder, every second of every day is spent brandishing your weapon.

You cannot sleep. There is no such thing as being safe. You cannot do anything but survive.

One day, you will find yourself alone. You will continue to survive even if the enemy is not in front of you, no longer in sight.

We've been doing this for so long that it becomes a part of us.
Did you know things can become a part of you without you realizing it?

You should probably look down at yourself and see if you are wounded - if your body is littered with cuts and gunshot wounds and if your fingernails are caked with blood.

We don't realize how long we've been fighting. We'll **** anyone that tries to take our weapon, our last bit of primal defense. Every single person we see is the enemy and we are ready to fight them off.

We could never anticipate the feelings.

Feelings are snakes in the bushes, slithering their way across our bodies while we try to sleep. They bite and infect us with their poison until we wake up screaming, clawing at our chests to get the venom out.

Feelings are butterflies in the sun, coming closer to us and settling on our clothes. We try to step away and avoid them. They land in our hair and sit in the palms of our hands, content with a place to rest.

One day, we will find ourselves alone and it will be more terrifying than waiting for the enemy to appear.

We will bury our weapon in the dirt because the feeling that begins to bloom in our chest will be unbeatable. We will rest our head in our hands and bite our lip until it's bleeding. We will squeeze our eyes shut so the only thing we see is darkness.

When the feeling hits, there is no defending yourself.

*You have survived.

They ask me a question.
What are we without love?

I am this. In this moment, I am not love.

Have you ever seen the aftermath of a plane crash?
The plane simply becomes an empty shell and bodies are strewn across the earth. There are no heaving lungs, no crying eyes, no twitching fingers.

Every living thing is dead. That's what I am.

Don't ever let anyone fool you into believing that you can't be dead in this life. You can and you will be.
There will be a moment when no heart pulses behind your ribs, no tears are left, and your hands feel nothing tangible.

It will only be you and the ground. You'll look up into the sky and maybe, just maybe, ask a question.

"What are we without love?"

This is that moment. Close your eyes and feel all of it.

In the end, everyone forgets.

There's a distant memory of me sitting in the passenger seat of a car -
my mom is driving and it's nighttime.
I'm very little.

Outside, it's pitch black except for a few sparse city lights in the distance and the never-ending stars above. In front of us, there is only a dark road.

I start crying all of a sudden. Heavy tears make me shake and it's as if there's a violent wave racking my small body from side to side, forcing me to drown.

"Gigi? What's wrong?"

I cry harder. She wants to know why I'm sad, of course she does. It's just making my chest hurt because I can't say it. I don't know how. Please, don't make me say it.

"Sweetheart..."

She rubs my arm and I look out the window, wiping away my truths. I look into that void and see it as clear as the slash of a blade.

"You're going to be dead one day."

In the end, everyone forgets.
It's the only thing I can hold onto in this life, even if it slips through my fingers and leaves nothing behind.

It's the only thing I've ever known and ever will be.

You do not know pain until you tell someone you love them,
and they don't reply.

You do not know anger until someone tells you they love you,
and they have been gone forever.

You do not know love until you tell each other I love you,
and neither of you mean the same thing.

I just want to hear you calling my name.
And for me to say, yes? What do you need?

I want to sit behind you
and kiss all the freckles you have across your shoulders.
To rest my hands across your stomach and feel it trembling -
feel its warmth and softness as you consume my love.

I want you to close your eyes
and rest your head on my shoulder,
to make me laugh when your hair tickles my nose.

I want to hear you say, Oops. Sorry about that.

I'll just love you a little bit extra, because everything you do is lovely to me.
And even when a moan escapes your lips as my kisses relocate to your neck, no one will be sorry about that.

I'll just hold your belly when it quivers. I'll just listen to your voice shake when you whisper, Please. More.

I'll give you whatever you want because I'm starving for it, too.